Everything In Between
by TwasSuchAPity
Summary: "Erik expects her to turn around in discomfort and leave. Of course, Kaeha marches to her own tune." A collection of stories/extras that happened between the chapters of Forging Middle Ground; includes wholesome fluff and teenage-level anxiety and, most importantly, splashes of sarcasm.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Stolen Moments

**Characters Involved:** Kaeha Malik; Erik Lehnsherr

**Stage in Storyline/Relationship: **Unacknowledged feelings that Erik isn't quite ready to face.

**Brief Summary: **Erik will never know how she magically stumbles upon him each night. It's aggravating and annoying and yet painfully comforting.

* * *

Stilted images careen behind shut eyelids in bright, nauseating glory. His mother's kind face, lined with concern and pale with fear, swims through the endless haze of sheer horror. She whispers quiet comforts that twist into blistering accusations. _You could have saved me!_ she screams, Schmidt's laughter bouncing off of warped walls and driving the metallokinetic insane.

He pleads for mercy in raspy breaths and begs the fictional version of his mother to _believe_ him. In a cruel twist of irony, a gun materializes in her hand before she fires a bullet through Erik's temple. The realistic ripple of searing pain jolts Erik awake, bewildered irises snapping open and darting around an unfamiliar room. It takes a moment for his brain to function through the storm of _pain-hurt-agony-I'm sorry._

Once clarity erases lingering traces of his nightmare, Erik remembers. He remembers flashing a smirk at Charles when the scholar presented his old yet well preserved room. He remembers jogging along cobblestone paths in a surreal daze. He remembers sharp hazel eyes staring over the top of a book at him in distrust. He remembers that he's _safe_ in Xavier's Institute.

Finally, his throat loosens enough for air to rush into grateful lungs. Pushing himself up, he sits upon the vast bed splattered with cold sweat. Fingers press against temples throbbing a cruel staccato rhythm. Despite the dream slowly seeping away, Erik still feels bitterness stabbing into his stomach like a sharp, twisting knife. The metal bender knows what must be done.

Throwing on the jacket carelessly draped across a chair, Erik slips out of his room with practiced ease. Silent footsteps and dark clothing nearly meld into the shadows dancing across dark hallways. He pays no attention to the path, feet moving on autopilot as he keeps his mind carefully blank. Alerting Charles, especially a wary and hostile Charles, with trivial nightmares is an experience he refused to repeat.

Brass hinges barely creak as they swing open with a lazy wave from his wrist. Electrical switches magically flip on when he strides through the threshold, casting a bright warm light before quickly extinguishing. A sole table lamp glows like a beacon amidst the darkness in the library. Lithe limbs fold into the plush chair beside the light in one unceremonious mess.

He can't pinpoint the exact reason he runs into libraries after a distressing episode. Perhaps it's the scent of old books, the taste of quality liquor he smuggled and the darkness that envelops instead of stifles. Shaking his dark head, Erik dismisses the odd thought while levitating a crystalline bottle of whiskey and its matching glass towards the table. Attaching strips of metal into transparent bases was proving to be an excellent decision.

Amber liquid spills into delicately cut glass to the brim. He contemplates starting a fire before banishing the idea when the blissful numbness of alcohol surpasses warmth. Reclining into his chair, Erik is about to take his first sip when there's a loud _thud_ followed by muffled French swears. Eyebrows knot until the door swings open and Kaeha stumbles through, hopping on one foot as bronzed fingers soothe injured toes.

"Classy." Erik comments in pure condescension.

He waits for her to throw a scathing glare. Predictability wins when she _does_ lift her gaze to flash a burning look of hatred. What he doesn't predict is her irate expression morphing into a blank and almost hesitant stare after two slow blinks. It's a clear indication of the energy mutant sensing his unsettled state. Erik expects her to turn around in discomfort and leave. Of course, Kaeha marches to her own tune.

Sauntering into the library like she owns it, fingers emit sparks that fly into the fireplace and set waiting timber on fire. Flames roar into life, tempering into a tamed inferno that lights the hearth without completely chasing shadows away. Stiffened muscles relax when the half of his frame facing away from the fire remains laced in darkness.

"I used to enjoy football - soccer, if you prefer the term." She abruptly states.

His puzzled look turns into one of wariness, internally debating whether he should summon Charles to determine the sanity of her mind. Hazel irises roll as Kaeha settles herself atop a couch cushion. The flow of graceful motion is enthralling enough for his gaze to linger. Thankfully, she notices nothing. After a moment, Erik scoffs and sinks back into silence.

"Best moments of my childhood, really. I was a sickly child before my powers manifested but once they did, I spent all my days running in open fields with mud on my face. My mother had seizures each time I returned home." Kaeha elaborates without missing a beat.

Gentle warmth suffuses her typically neutral tone, softening each syllable and glazing every word. He would never openly admit it but this is the voice Erik secretly covets. Only fond memories whispered into the night renders Kaeha so vulnerable. Of course, she selects the ones easiest to give away as they bear no importance but it's still a gesture of trust.

One act of trust garners another which is why Erik slowly shuts off segments of his mind. Constant vigilance dims, sliding away from the forefront of his consciousness as coiled muscles completely unwind. Eyes shutter close and the metallokinetic is able to visualize endless spans of hills and the warm caress of sunshine on his face. The image unfurls and expands when Kaeha continues talking about mischievous pranks.

Rusty laughter spills out of pale lips at one ridiculous trick involving sheep, neon dye and tablecloths. The picture of a young Kaeha, one with full cheeks and eyes bright with innocence, as she endures running laps as punishment burns fiercely like the inferno she made. Light seeps into the dark corners of his mind, haunting dreams seared away and replaced with _warm_ memories instead.

For the first time in an age, Erik is relaxed. It's a rare occurrence for his mind to be preoccupied with childish fantasies than murder or vengeance. Her voice mingles with the crackling of wood, weaving a lullaby that submerges him deeper into endless waves of peace. He's so far under her spell that it takes him long minutes to realize Kaeha stopped talking.

The epiphany propels Erik onto his feet, metal ornaments thrumming in response to leashed panic. Sharp winter irises flick across the room in a meticulous sweep for signs of foul play. What the metal bender finds instead is Kaeha fast asleep, arms curled around toned legs and cheek cushioned by denim-clad knees.

A long sigh drags out of his lips. Clenched fingers release the death grip they held around fragile glass, depositing it upon a table as he shuffles over to her side. Shoulders roll, leather sliding past his arms only to be delicately swathed around the dozing brunette. His fingers catch on strands falling free from her messy bun when he moves away.

Erik freezes in place. All thoughts dissipate from his mind in one sudden rush as fingers tangle further into Kaeha's hair on instinct. The sensation is akin to silk or satin gliding over his palm. It's so painfully _soft_ that his restraint crumbles further, knuckles dragging up past a slender neck before grazing against her warm cheek. Each feather-light touch is only seconds long but it feels like eons to the transfixed man.

When Kaeha mumbles in her rare bout of sleep and burrows deeper into her makeshift pillow, Erik finally snaps out of it. His hand withdraws fast enough to give his wrist whiplash as he reels back in horror. Feet stumble and catch on soft carpeting in his clumsy scramble backwards. It's a miracle to reach his chair and thus a safe distance away from Kaeha.

"_Was zur Hölle_?" He gapes breathlessly, staring at his tingling palm like a foreign limb.

Silence in the form of trembling pale skin is the only reply he receives. Curses and swears that could rival a sailor's arsenal bubble in his throat only to extinguish when he hears quiet rattling. Teeth grind as the metal bender forces himself to calm down and cease unconsciously shaking metal gilded bookshelves.

_Leave. Do it; _leave_ now._ His mind advices.

He smartly heeds the warning and quickly exits, a solitary backwards glance thrown over his shoulder before doors close shut. Erik doesn't think too deeply about why he snaps his fingers and slides the steel lock into place. He's certain it has nothing to do with how fragile and delicate Kaeha appears, drowning in his leather jacket and doused in warm fire light.

_Of course not._ Erik firmly chants like a desperate mantra.

The same string of words hound his mind up winding staircases, through dark hallways and finally into his own bed. It takes a surprisingly short amount of time for Erik to find the solace of sleep. When his head sinks into the firm pillow, eyelids droop down like lead curtains while his mind drifts into the heady haze of half-sleep.

After he drifts into unconsciousness, Erik dreams for the second time that night. This time there are no nightmares or stowed skeletons that creep out to wreak havoc. His mind is filled with _wonderful_ things instead; blades of grass snapping beneath his feet, echoing laughter ringing in his ear, dark tresses burning copper against firelight and warm skin carving an imprint into his hand. By morning, Erik remembers nothing of his dreams. It should concern him but he doesn't care.

It was still the best sleep he's had in years.

* * *

**_Author Babbling Time:  
_**

**_Greetings readers both old and new but equally loved! :D First off, thank you very much if you've read 'Forging Middle Ground' and continued on to this little adventure. I appreciate every single one of you and your support means the world to me. C':  
_**

**_Next off, here's part one in a series of extras that I never got to squeeze into FMG. I do intend to make more that orient around the Kaeha/Erik dynamic as well as everyone else so look forward to that!_**

**_Real talk though: my free time is now extremely limited and updates will be fairly erratic. However, I promise to make some time and churn out more chapters so do stick around if you like what you've read so far! Thanks again for reading! *makes a heart sign*  
_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Left Unsaid

**Characters Involved:** Henry "Hank" McCoy; Kaeha Malik; Erik Lehnsherr.

**Stage in Storyline/Relationship: **Post Talia's arrival and during her rehabilitation; a strong friendship between Kaeha and Hank.

**Brief Summary: **She's precious; he's always known that even from the second they met. What Hank never quite knew is exactly how _much_.

* * *

Fingers faintly tremble as they delicately grasp a test tube with swirling chemicals and the glass dropper hovering above it. Eyebrows furrow in concentration while lips silently mouth the number of amber droplets that tumble into the mixture. Responsibility bears down on broad shoulders to breaking point yet Hank refuses to submit.

_Not when it's for her._ His mind whispers, looping the same sentence in endless echoes.

Soft growls rumble from his stomach when hunger pangs strike for the umpteenth time. Hank expertly ignores it while transferring the test tube into a centrifuge. Honestly, meals seem redundant in comparison to the possibility of accelerating Talia's recovery process. If his theory is sound, this serum will temporarily increase her metabolism and accelerate cell growth to the _exact_ amount her neglected system requires. Thus food is dead last on his list of priorities.

Teeth gnaw on the chewed pen cap as he stares intently at whirling machinery, free hand rapping an unsteady pattern on his thigh. Hank is known for his saint-like patience, especially when it concerns his meticulous or delicate experiments. Abandoned hours of sleep has fractured said patience though. The lack of sleep slowly hazes his mind and dulls keen senses. Groggy cerulean irises glaze over in exhaustion before snapping into focus with a jolt.

"Stay awake." He grumbles.

Roughly rubbing tired eyes with the heel of his palm, Hank tries to force awareness into his skull that feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Pale lips exhale a sharp sigh when that does nothing. Stinging eyes drag their lethargic gaze over to the alluring coffee machine tucked away in a corner. Temptation slowly creeps into his veins at the sight.

He _really_ shouldn't. Dirty mugs stained with traces of caffeine still litter the desk in one messy line. Hank had stopped counting after the seventh cup two nights ago. It seemed logical to stop counting once he veered onto the right path after multiple dead ends. After all, energy was a necessity regardless of the horrid aftereffects.

"Maybe just one tiny sip..." Hank whispers, fingers inching towards the sole untouched cup.

Just when warm fingertips graze ceramic, the door slams open in a violent cacophony of sound. Hank lets loose a girlish shriek as his body lurches away in guilty panic. Ungraceful palms smack into the mug during his clumsy flailing, toppling it over the edge to shatter into shards of black. The medic groans in agony and sinks to his knees to collect coffee-covered fragments. Pale fingers are quickly assisted by bronzed digits accompanied by all-too-smug humming.

"Was that necessary?" He dryly asks.

"I just saved your life, Blue Wonder. You should be worshiping the ground I walk on." Kaeha quips tartly with a broad smirk.

Hank makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and disposes the broken glass safely. When he scoops up the brunette's smaller palm and scrutinizes her skin, Kaeha chuckles derisively yet allows it. Hank knows her curious gaze is sweeping across the room even without looking up. After all this time together, he _knows_ she's cataloging every new item and displaced furniture. Despite not being the empath, her concern is palpable enough for him to smile.

Placated by unmarked skin, Hank releases his grip only for her burning hand to abruptly slam into his shoulder. The medic screeches and stumbles a few steps backwards. Covered skin still blister and ache in the distinct imprint of slender digits. He swivels on his heel, gold flashing in his eyes, to protest only to wither under Kaeha's ominous glare.

Survival instincts kick in within seconds. Palms raise up in defense while an apology dances on his tongue despite not knowing what sin he committed. However, Hank is quickly brought up to speed when his stomach grumbles and Kaeha's glare sharpens. Oh. _Oh._ Lips twist into a nervous smile as he laughs in stilted chuckles.

"I can explain." The medic blurts, cringing when there isn't a reason satisfactory enough to pacify the petite brunette.

A delicate eyebrow arches and Hank's shoulders slump in defeat. Exhaling a deep breath, his slouched spine straightens and muscles tense as he braces for the impending lecture. It isn't the first time and sure as hell wouldn't be the last. Sharp ears catch the intake of her breath and a wince blooms down his spine only to morph into an erratic string of motion when coarse palms are suddenly weighed down by something smooth and heavy.

Hank fumbles, eyes popping open in surprise, yet manages to keep his grip on what appears to be a tray full of food. He gapes at the unnatural portions then at a smirking Kaeha before gaping back down at the food. Tanned fingertips gently lift his jaw into place. Her tender touch snaps Hank out of his stupor, spouting half-formed syllables that entice her laughter.

"I vowed to only eat when you do and I've yet to have a meal." Kaeha casually states, sickly sweet voice masking the obvious blackmail.

Glancing surreptitiously at the window, the medic groans internally. Judging by the amount and the angle of sunlight, time has escaped his grasp once more as it's way past noon. Another loud and traitorous grumble seals his fate. Hank scowls childishly at the chortling energy user as he deposits the tray on the desk mentally marked as Kaeha's.

Dog-eared books, forgotten hair ties, sugar-drenched candy and charcoal drawings occupy the soapstone surface in relatively neat piles. It's a stark contrast to the rest of Hank's chaotic lab flooded with unusual experiments. However, there isn't an ounce of dust due to the slender brunette spending at least an hour every single day in his medical-ward-cum-laboratory. Kaeha is such a permanent part of his life that Hank struggles to remember what it was like two months ago before her arrival.

"Did you hear about the chemist reading a book on helium?" The brunette questions, drawing Hank out of his muddled thoughts once more.

"Whaa?" He mumbles eloquently, confused by the magical appearance of tea in his hand yet eagerly takes a sip.

"He couldn't put it down." Kaeha clarifies with an abnormally stoic face.

Hank spends two slow blinks processing her words before bursting into raucous laughter, choking on half-gulped tea and thumping a fist on the table. Kaeha manages to last for half a minute before cracking a wide grin and laughs in delight. He's certain their deafening mirth is loud enough to interrupt nearby classes but Hank honestly doesn't care.

Fatigue dissipates from his system as lungs fill with happiness and a heady weightless sensation. Keeping a watchful eye on the centrifuge, Hank devours the food which he slowly realizes consists of all his favorites. Kaeha maintains a steady chatter of idle topics and chemistry puns that constantly sends the amused man into bouts of laughter.

Somewhere along the way, hearty swallows are quietly replaced by adoring smiles as he watches the slender brunette gesture animatedly. Enraptured by her own tales, Kaeha notices nothing which allows the content scientist to admire her further. Oh yes, Hank couldn't possibly survive a life without _this_.

"Malik." A curt voice calls out, swiftly ending a heated discussion on Kerr's theory of black holes.

Twin gazes of hazel and azure snap towards the doorway to catch a brief smirk flit across Erik's face. The metallokinetic responds by silently raising a hand clutching onyx fabric: Kaeha's training garb. Erik actually chuckles when the energy manipulator sighs in utter misery. Popping a candy past pursed lips, Kaeha slides off the chair in one easy catlike motion. Hank is caught off guard when a bronzed finger nearly jabs his forehead, jerking backwards with a stifled gasp.

"When I come back to return these to the kitchen, there better be _nothing_ left." She warns.

"Yes, Mum." Hank quips sweetly, coaxing a flicker of a grin before Kaeha shifts back into her solemn persona.

Nodding in a regal gesture, she swivels on her heel and marches towards Erik while exuding an aura of despair and doom. The taller man barely bats an eye and coolly relinquishes her possessions. Hank quietly notes the way their fingers graze and linger, the way their gazes soften and the way Erik splays a gentle hand over the dip in Kaeha's vulnerable back.

_She loves him._ Hank muses, startled by the wave of unrestrained envy and yearning that abruptly surfaces.

Tender veal which tasted divine mere seconds ago now tastes like hard tar and bitter rubber. The medic forcibly swallows the chunk of food as his grip tightens on the metal utensil hard enough that it bends. Flaring emotions are doused and sealed in three blinks to ensure the empath is oblivious to his internal turmoil. Surprisingly, it's Erik that casts an attentive glance over his shoulder as he nudges Kaeha past the doorway.

Hank isn't sure what expression is painted across his pale face but it's enough for Erik's gaze to shift from concern to cold detachment. Winter irises narrow and it's surprisingly easy to decipher the hidden message in the metal bender's gaze: _Watch yourself._ Flustered and bewildered, the scientist meekly ducks his head down to drill imaginary holes into his plate.

Once their footsteps are barely a faint echo to his sensitive hearing, Hank finally breathes. Slow intakes of air morph into quiet laughter that borders on hysteria. Fingers rake through his hair roughly until his scalp burns from the abuse. The shift of pain from pulsing beneath his rib cage to his throbbing scalp is a welcomed relief. Swiping up dropped utensils, Hank shovels food down his throat until the plate is cleared and the bitter pangs in his stomach are slightly alleviated.

"She's my friend," Hank huffs to the silent plate. "Kaeha is one of my best _friends_."

Despite not having an expression or animated life in general, he feels as though the delicate porcelain is rolling its eyes in mocking disbelief. Pushing the plate away, he hangs his head and buries his face into broad palms. The medic knows when he's fooling himself and that's exactly what he's trying and failing to do.

_How I wish you were _just_ a friend._ He sighs wistfully.

* * *

_**Author Ranting Bit:  
**_

_**Well, this took insanely longer than expected. Life seems to have decided fanfic and Netflix are irrelevant by burying yours truly in assignments and lab reports. OTL However, this was finally completed so SUCK IT HIGHER EDUCATION BAHAHAHAHA.**_

_**Anyway, this was made when a reviewer wondered if Hank harbored romantic feelings for my beloved OC. Hoped you enjoyed the small peek into What Could Have Been. xD**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** May I?

**Characters Involved:** Erik Lehnsherr; Talia Malik

**Stage in Storyline/Relationship: **Somewhere in the midst of Talia's recovery and solidifying feelings.

**Brief Summary: **Erik thought his greatest challenge would be hunting Shaw down. He was wrong; oh so _horribly wrong_.

* * *

_This will _not_ end well._ His sane mind mutters for the twenty fifth time.

Teeth grit from the sudden flare of anxiety but mechanical steps don't falter or stray from their intended path. Once he reaches his destination, Erik starts to pace in tight circles. Fingers are clasped neatly behind his back. It's an excellent way to avoid wringing his wrists and looking like a nervous child. For something of this magnitude, the metal bender must appear confident and strong; _not_ distraught and, quite frankly, intimidated.

Comforting warmth from the whiskey gulped down mere minutes ago is slowly fading into ice. Previous experiences has taught - and proven - how a shot of strong liquor acts as a foolproof way to bolster morale when faced with a reckless choice. Of course, now when he needs the illusion of courage most, it does absolutely nothing. _Of course._

Twisting his torso forwards, Erik stares at the smooth dark wood door intensely. He remembers the pretty words Charles offered as advice before he undertook this arduous task. _Just be yourself and be _sincere_; nothing could possibly go wrong_, the scholar said with a broad grin. Erik barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

Dismissing his cliche guidance, the metallokinetic focuses on the string of sentences burned into memory. It's short and direct while still conveying his genuine intentions. Hours were spent constructing this perfect conversation until he was certain there was no room for error. Filled with renewed conviction, he lifts a hand and raps hard knuckles against the door in three quick successions.

"Come in, dear one." A gentle voice calls out, broad smile threaded through affectionate words.

Pure fear jolts through his veins in wintry horror while his stomach takes a plummeting dive towards his ankles. Carefully assembled fragments of his mind dissipate in a whirlwind of chaos, leaving a jagged and hollow space behind. Each rehearsed syllable slips through mental fingers like fine sand. Despite his mind devoid of thought or logic, fingers move on muscle memory to grasp the brass knob and twist it open.

Unable to refute her polite welcome, Erik blunders into the room on stiff feet. Talia is all radiant beams and airy laughter as he takes the necessary seventeen steps to reach her bedside. Fingers tighten their grip around stark white wrists when the urge to fiddle with his hands start to overwhelm his system. Erik is loath to admit it but he's _nervous_.

Talia is an observant woman and easily notices his unusual demeanor. He expects invisible fingers to probe the edges of his mind in gentle sweeps and uncover each miniscule insecurity. It's a habit both Charles and Talia have yet to forgo after years of doing it on reflex. Erik never minds it and neither do those that are close to the telepathic duo.

However, nothing of the sort happens as her gentle beam broadens. Tilting her head towards the lone chair drawn up to the mattress edge, intelligent hazel pools flash a silent offer. Erik obediently walks over and folds long limbs into the plush surface. A cup of lukewarm tea is pressed into his faintly trembling hand followed by an affectionate hair tousle. The tender gesture causes an older memory to surge into existence, completely unbidden yet still bursting with glorious color.

Time may have passed but the metal bender still feels the phantom sensation of slender fingers threading through his hair in an impish yank. Warm skin burnished by sunlight and mischievous lips curved into a dangerous smirk consumes his memory of Kaeha. The treasured fragment pulses across his mind in blaring echoes of amusement and wonderment.

Erik may be known for control but, like every thing associated with the energy mutant, he can't tamp this down. His memory is loud enough to tumble into Talia's sensors, eliciting soft chuckles as warmth suffuses her gaze. Instead of feeling like a vital nerve has been exposed, Erik feels as though he's sharing a secret with someone who understands. An imaginary weight disappears from his shoulders as his spine straightens and tense muscles relax.

"I must ask you something." Erik finally states, raising his level gaze to meet molten pools of hazel.

Calloused fingers reach out to clasp Talia's hand between coarse palms. Pianist fingers loosely wrap around his hand and squeezes gently. The light pressure is comforting and emboldens him further. Erik may no longer have the right words but that hardly stops him from trying. He has nothing to lose - not with Talia - and everything to gain.

"I'm not a good person. I have done the unthinkable; I have been consumed by rage; I have hurt many and left scars that will never heal. Regardless, your daughter makes me feel like I have hope for redemption. Being around Kaeha doesn't erase my sins yet I feel more _human_ and less like a monster with her." He whispers softly.

Reverence and adoration has colored his voice in shades of unexpected openness. Bubbling emotions momentarily steal all the air in the room, dissipating with a shallow gasp. Erik spends a few seconds to collect himself and reform his lost composure. When his gaze tangles with Talia's once more, Erik is certain his reflected gaze has never looked so earnest or vulnerable.

"I do not believe I'm the perfect choice. There are many men - _better_ men - than myself. Despite that, I - I must ask you: would you allow me to court your daughter? I would like to have your blessing whether she chooses me or not." He murmurs, quiet syllables raw with emotion yet firm with belief.

Long seconds tick by with Talia merely regarding the metallokinetic in silence. Erik does his best to keep the bile from rising up his throat or the light in his eyes to dim. He may have been prepared for rejection but it would wound far more than his pride if the telepath disapproved. When warm palms cup the sides of his angular face, Erik actually jumps in surprise. Muscles freeze halfway through their jolt when Talia's forehead touches his.

"There is no one else I would rather trust. I apologize in advance though. Caring for my stubborn child is, at times, _trying_." She whispers, cracking a smile at the end.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He blurts out with startled honesty.

This time, the telepath laughs loud and clear. Talia tilts back, departing from his personal space, and flows into the aimless banter Erik is familiar with. Faint tremors fade with each passing second unlike the joy coursing through his veins. Once the sky darkens and visiting hours end, Hank evicts the metallokinetic from the ward. He indulges the harried medic and leaves without causing a fuss despite the tempting notion.

Halfway up the winding staircase, a familiar thrum of metal entwined with polymer spikes his sensors. Blatant curiosity skirts the edges of Erik's mind, impatiently lurking about yet otherwise unobtrusive. This time, the metal bender rolls his eyes in clear view of the telepath. Charles barely bats an eye. Skilled hands easily maneuver the wheelchair to keep up with Erik's brisk pace and subtle attempt to flee.

"_Well_, how did you fare?" Charles fires, confidence and enthusiasm melting every syllable.

"Better than I expected." Erik confides after a long pause, deflating slightly at the sight of Charles's smug grin.

"I do give such _brilliant_ advice. Perhaps I should turn my council into a career." He muses in glee.

The taller of the duo scoffs but avoids his typical mockery. Charles fills the silence - accustomed to carrying most conversations unless they were in a heated debate - and chatters on about his glamorous double life. Arms gesture animatedly while Erik keeps his wheelchair rolling without thought. Once the wheels cease rotating, Charles ends his cavalier rant mid-sentence.

Razor sharp irises blink at carpeted floors in concentration. His angular jaw moves in half-formed syllables as Erik tries and fails to find the right starting sentence. Pale lips exhale a long sigh as his palm rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. When Erik finally raises his gaze, wintry irises beam in earnest warmth as he offers a small smile.

"Thank you." The metallokinetic professes, voice laced in layers upon layers of unsaid affection.

"Any time, old friend." Charles airily dismisses around a broad grin.

_Any time._

* * *

_**Author's Rant:  
**_

_**This officially shatters my previous record of being MIA for a month. I believe it's been slightly over two months since the last update and I apologize my dear, faithful readers. I'm afraid I've lost my writing mojo. This chapter was already half written a week after the previous one yet it took me this long to semi-awkwardly finish it. *sighs***_

_**Updates will be scarce and in between until I rescue my creativity from the gutter it fell into, sadly. However, I'd still like to thank you awesome readers for reading this! You lot are and always will be my world. Here's to hoping our journey still continues. C':**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Close Encounter

**Characters Involved:** Erik Lehnsherr; Kaeha Malik

**Stage in Storyline/Relationship: **In the midst of Kaeha's training; basically the time gap before Aldaine's interrogation.

**Brief Summary: **Training with Erik is a dreary affair that's tolerable at best and absolutely deplorable at worst. Today is a startling exception.

* * *

Kaeha wants to _murder_ someone. While her logical mind points out the sand bag a couple of feet away, she prefers slapping the _hell_ out of the smirking man looming above her. Bronzed fingers bat aside the offered hand in a crude smack. She may be gasping for air but Kaeha can damn well get up by herself,_ thank you_. Another bout of sardonic chuckles set her teeth on edge.

Propping herself up on wobbly elbows, the brunette clambers back on to her feet in a graceless string of motion. The world spins for a brief, dizzying moment. Irk crackles through her veins when the sensation is familiar enough after mere days of fending off the gruff giant. Constant visits to the medical ward have now been slotted into her life at Xavier's Institute too. Of course, her injuries didn't trouble Hank for more than an hour, at the very most, but _still_.

_God damn you to hell and back, you _ridiculous_ Sasquatch._ The energy mutant swears.

Her mental voice is the epitome of bitterness and Kaeha isn't ashamed of it. Bandaged knuckles, now bruised and sore, swipe the beads of sweat trickling down the side of her face. Despite her efforts, minute cuts and scrapes still sting from salt-stained droplets. Tiny flares of muted pain merely fuels the burning annoyance she harbors towards Erik.

For the past couple of hours, the sadistic metal bender has been wiping the floor with her battered frame. It was all under the pretense of 'training' and her imminent recovery as well as to enable her participation in future missions. Kaeha, however, deemed his reasoning as rubbish and nothing short of a flimsy excuse to flaunt his temporary physical advantage.

Regardless, her protests carried undertones of a petulant child and Charles was forced to sanction it. Plus, Hank was too gentle and she easily triumphed over him even without her abilities. Tightly clenched fingers abruptly slam into the bottom of her jaw, snapping her thoughts apart like a gust of wind scattering leaves as toned arms windmill wildly. The metallic twang of rust and copper blooms in her mouth. Aggravation swiftly follows when she stumbles then trips to the ground.

"Again." Erik simply states, face expressionless while pale eyes glow in faint amusement.

Palms grasp aching shoulders to easily haul the slender woman upright. In a rare moment of mercy, Erik doesn't release his grip until her balance is restored. Wintry irises flick across her limbs, cataloging every bruise as he reminds her to keep her arms up and guard her left flank. Auburn locks sway in absent nods only to cease mid-motion when his voice fades into silence.

She glances up and _again there's that look_. Days have come and gone with a section of her mind agonizing over that one peculiar expression. Kaeha can't begin to make sense of his odd gaze and a (terrified, sane, all-knowing) part of her refuses to try. Erik mercifully snaps back into focus; palms lifting off of her upper arms to turn away and reclaim his original position. Teeth sink into her tongue to withhold snarky remarks on how stiff his typically fluid steps were.

Her jostled world shifts back into its rightful orbit when they melt into their usual routine. Soon enough, Kaeha forgets the imprint of callous fingers lingering on her skin when she's too busy burning through her arsenal of insults in the confines of her mind. A swift jab to her briefly exposed side shadowed by one brutal kick to her knees sends her toppling to the ground. _Again_.

Erik doesn't exhale in tired vexation. No, he does this pretentious thing instead where he flashes a glimmer of disappointment before schooling his face back into a stern yet somehow deadpan mask. When the stilted gesture is repeated with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Kaeha's dwindling patience snaps.

The brunette is certain it's her sudden yell than rusty militant skills that finally catches Erik off guard. Voice rumbling in a battle cry and white teeth bared, Kaeha jumps before she thinks by lunging at him. Erik, still hilariously bewildered, lacks the ability to think, deflect or even use his powers on the metal loops dangling from her wrists. Instead, he mimics a half-formed wall; offering some resistance when she slams into his torso but inevitably tumbling to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs and screams.

Triumph flares through her veins at his frustrated grunt before quickly disappearing like a doused flame. Unlike Hank, dear and precious Hank, whom always cushioned her fall and delicately untangled her limbs from his, Erik holds nothing back. Fierce tugs and precisely aimed fists rain down on bruised skin but Kaeha stubbornly gains back every inch Erik wrestles into his grasp.

However, she quickly loses ground when her sharp hearing catches the brief flicker of a laugh. It's barely a wisp of sound; lost in the next collision of tensed muscle but it was there and _Erik fucking Lehnsherr just laughed_. Later, with a much less addled mind, Kaeha is coherent enough to justify it as nothing short of an adrenaline rush. After all, Erik is rarely challenged.

Now, however, she's just dumbstruck and riddled with some form of emotion the energy mutant ignores with a tad too much desperation.

Defeat is imminent with her focus tossed out of a figurative window and Kaeha already expects the floor to meet her back in a dreadful embrace. What she doesn't expect is for Erik to turn perfectly still akin to the marble statues Charles keeps littered about his lawns. Long seconds tick by with the metallokinetic perched above her, arms caging her head against the mats and both knees effectively trapping a leg peppered with blue-black marks to the pliant ground.

Logic reminds her that there _is_ an entire body's span of distance between them. That if she feels the physical press of heat, it's all in her delusional mind. That time does not magically cease and desist on anyone's whim. That the air crackling in electricity not borne from her fingers is an illusion at best. That emotions swelling in an unfamiliar rhythm is ludicrous.

When there's a familiar thunder of footsteps - Sean, of course; no one else sounds like an armada of lumbering men - rolling towards their hallway, Erik finally pulls away and rolls onto his feet. Envy stabs at her heart at his feline grace and she nurtures the negativity to conjure a frown. It's enough to fool one deceptively astute Sean Cassidy as he whoops that lunch is ready.

"And this time, Alex didn't cook anything!" The red head squeals in delight.

Breathless chuckles spill out of chapped lips when Alex appears behind Sean, scaring the boy and eliciting a high-pitched shriek. Their careless laughter and faux threats echo down the hallway as Alex chases Sean down to mess up scarlet locks. It never fails to break the sonic screamer's heart and Kaeha feels warm and privileged to know that little tidbit of information.

Erik stops once he hits the border between training mats and wood paneled floors. Twisting his head slightly to the side, he arches an eyebrow in silent question. Hazel irises flash when she's intelligent enough to detect the vein of contempt threaded in his gaze. Bronzed hands wave in nonchalance, dismissing the man as fingers occupy themselves with removing bandages.

"_Go_, Lehnsherr." She drawls when he fails to move.

A few agonizing seconds pass before Erik obliges, head dipping in a small nod before he collects his meager possessions and exits the training room. Succumbing to temptation, Kaeha taps into her powers and tracks his departure all the way into the dining area bustling with energy. Then, and only then, does she inhale a shaky breath to grant her burning lungs some much needed air. Fingers tremble faintly, weak tremors far too noticeable against stark white bandages.

"This needs to stop." Kaeha declares to herself.

Her voice sounds tired and unconvincing even to her ears. Honestly, the energy mutant doesn't have time to spare such trivial feelings. The dream from days ago of delicate caresses, chestnut strands and burning debris still haunts her mind. Not a day goes by where she stops fretting about her mother's life and safety. Emotional sentiments have no place in her present realm and Kaeha is certain these feelings would be easy enough to dismiss.

Nodding in agreement, she forces herself back onto her feet despite the protest of aching muscles and darkening bruises. Onyx fabric clings to her skin without hindering her movements as she limps out the door. Her posture straightens to conceal the actual amount of damage before pushing open infirmary doors. Hank glances up, disgruntled frown melting into a shy smile.

Cool fingers are a welcomed relief as the medic expertly mends every little scrape and cut. By the time he's done with her medical treatment and lecturing spiel, Kaeha is right as rain and sliding into her seat at the dining table beside Charles. She laughs when Sean slides her a plate filled with a mountain of food. She beams in gratitude when Alex quietly nudges her favorite cup of tea over. She smiles endearingly at Charles as he rambles about the new genetics article he just read.

Above all, she ignores the way Erik quietly eats his meal opposite her and the way pale lips quirk in something that isn't a smile but closely resembles one. She ignores the way he offers up his portion of dessert in exchange for her ginger biscuits. She remains impervious to the occasional brush of their fingers and retires to her room early despite Sean's desolate whining.

Now, if she lied to herself by claiming she didn't enjoy the way they seamlessly _worked_ together, none were the wiser to call her out on it.

* * *

_**Author's Rambling:**_

_**For you, my dear readers, the vague sort of romance which is the only sort that my writer's brain just barely manages to compute. *sprinkles confetti***_

_**Pardon me if the characters are slightly out of character as the thought of Erik loving ginger cookies has slightly skewed my thoughts. *grins sheepishly* Do drop a few words as a review if you have the time to spare and thanks again for reading as always! C:**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Game On

**Characters Involved:** Erik Lehnsherr; Kaeha Malik; Charles Xavier; Hank McCoy; Alex Summers; Sean Cassidy; Emma Frost; Janos Quested; Azazel

**Stage in Storyline/Relationship: **Shortly after Kaeha arrived at the mansion and formed vague friendships.

**Brief Summary: **Forcing Charles and Erik to get along isn't Kaeha's sole skill. Apparently, she can get the whole house to play soccer too.

* * *

"I don't think this is wise." Hank protests weakly, trying and failing to deter the brunette.

Kaeha limps on ahead despite the constant stream of protests behind her. Frantic cerulean irises keep track of her every unstable step and loose grip on the medical-issued crutches. Those crutches were purely for show and Hank hates the fact that Kaeha is well aware of that. He was certain it was a miracle he placated her into using them this morning. Now, he stands corrected for it was no miracle; it was a pipe dream.

Hank understands her euphoria caused by the unexpected release from the stuffy medical bay. What he _can't_ begin to fathom is Kaeha's instant dismissal for her well-being the second tanned feet grazed the hallway. At this rate, a cardiac arrest is imminent for every brief second where her smooth jog abruptly jerks into a tottering step before her balance recovers.

When Kaeha turns back to smile, Hank visibly flinches at the gleeful expression. Rosy lips peel back to flash pearly whites in an almost savage smile. It's one that _dares_ anyone to get in her way while brimming with the sort of mischief parents warn their innocent children of. Nausea fills his stomach in a flutter of butterflies when bandaged arms raise to wave stiff crutches in the air like an extension to her slender limbs.

"Lighten up, Blue Wonder! I'll be fine!" The brunette hollers around another dangerous grin.

Face scrunching in protest, he's about to voice a list of reasons on why attempting any type of sports would be a wretched idea. However, Kaeha chooses that _exact_ moment to glare balefully at her crutches before flinging them aside as though they were made of paper. Unceremonious noise erupts when they clatter against the bark of a tree - her intended target - followed by a sad hiss as they slide onto smooth grass in a defeated pile.

_Why, _why_ on Earth did I ever think she would be more manageable than Sean?_ He wails in despair.

Sorrow quickly morphs into frustration and the medic allows himself to swear up a storm in the safety of his mind. It's loud enough to filter into Charles' sensors and elicit amused chuckles from the telepath as he rolls up to him. Cool fingers pat cotton slacks as Charles offers up a smile that causes cerulean eyes to narrow at the glowing camaraderie in the quirk of his lips.

"Honestly Hank, _relax_." Charles chides like a patient mother.

"You weren't there the last time I took my eyes off of her." He grumbles, jogging forward to catch up to the energy mutant crossing marked lines.

In all honesty, Hank was partially at fault. He had neglected to emphasize the repercussions from a power spike. His mind was distant, whirring on the new breakthrough he discovered in reverse-making the drug despite not knowing its actual properties, and that was all it took. Sean still has a patch of singed hair beneath his left ear as a mark of Hank's negligence.

Cheeks burn when Charles laughs loud and bright, clearly seeing the memory when it splays across his mind in vivid hues. Fragmented attention reforms into sharp focus when Sean's voice rings out in a wild whoop. A foot lashes against the black and white sphere to send the football spiraling through the air. Hank is grudgingly impressed when the skillful shot lands the globe an exact step ahead of Kaeha's twitching feet. He frowns at the sight of bare feet.

"At least put some shoes on!" The medic grumbles, rolling his eyes when dismissive laughter is all he gets.

Dismayed groans pour out of his lips when Alex joins the building fray, Janos a close shadow on his heels after shucking his blazer aside and rolling his sleeves up. Emma sniffs in distaste from her relaxed coil on the deck chair by the outskirts of the crudely lined field. Azazel, the actual referee, surveys the raucous bunch while a gleaming whistle shines against his chest. Other students shyly fidget along the outskirts, mildly intimidated but eager all the same.

Lips tug into an unwilling smile when Kaeha approaches them with patient beams and molten eyes. Spines straighten and shoulders roll back as the newer additions to Xavier's Institute join their assigned teams with more confidence than before. He scowls and sighs when Kaeha gestures him over but trudges along anyway, warm sunshine pulsing through his veins.

"Care to be team captain, Summers?" She drawls once both sides have assembled into two opposing lines.

"Gladly." Alex says, flashing a feral grin as he steps forward after checking with his teammates for silent signs of approval.

Azazel glides forward and waits for Kaeha to claim heads before flipping the coin. Energy prickles through the waiting groups as silver somersaults through the air before landing on crimson skin. Hank feels a rush of adrenaline when Kaeha smirks victoriously and cheers in one ferocious noise. She dissects the team into carefully orchestrated roles and the medic can't prevent the grin on his face as he settles into his defending position.

When Azazel blows the whistle, all hell breaks loose.

* * *

Blades of grass and clumps of dirt sail through the air as Kaeha throws herself into a diving tackle. Feet crash into unsuspecting ankles in one smooth swipe and Alex crashes to the ground. She _may_ have cackled deviously when the monochrome sphere falls into her possession after skipping over the fallen blond. Laughter morphs into hissed curses when the earth shifts as a slab of dirt slams upwards to hurl the football skyward.

The slender brunette swears and yanks her body sideways to avoid crashing into the pillar. Cecily, a budding earth manipulator, dashes by in a flurry of pink ribbons and pastel taffeta. She may look harmless but the tween could wreck serious havoc if she really wanted to. Not for the first time today, Kaeha sorely misses having her abilities. Being the only powerless one in a soccer match against mutants is hardly easy.

_I'm all up for the challenge though._ She sings in delight.

Swiveling on her heel, Kaeha is about to chase Cecily down only to almost ram into her. The earth bender is impossibly still, not even drawing a breath, as wide baby blues stare at the left corner. Everyone else on the field has mirrored the statue-like stillness. Heavy tension crackles through the air and bears down on the field in a physical press.

Twisting her neck to the left, Kaeha watches as a looming figure bends to pick up the football that rolled up to polished Oxfords. Calloused fingers grip the sphere in a loose hold despite the disapproval radiating from winter irises. The intensity sharpens to a glowing inferno by the time Erik levels a blazing gaze on her. Carefully smoothing muscles into a relaxed posture, Kaeha grips Cecily's shoulder until she startles back into motion.

After ensuring tanned fingers aren't coiled into fists, she marches over to Erik. She hears her name whispered in a mental warning from Charles but brushes him aside. She's handled far worse nightmares than one measly Erik Lehnsherr before. Alex grazes his fingertips against her arm to soundlessly tell her he'll back her play whatever it may be. The energy mutant returns the gesture before staring Erik down.

"Problem?" Kaeha curtly asks.

"You're useless to me if you injure yourself again, Malik." Erik drawls back, underlying steel unmistakable.

Controlled temper flares as irk floods her veins. Years of practice always seem to disappear when Erik magically pushes all her buttons. Kaeha spends a few moments recollecting herself and finally succeeds in conjuring up an ugly smirk. She knows the expression on her face is deprecation and condescension at its finest. Juvenile joy warms her fingers like the warmth from a fireplace when the vein under Erik's jaw starts to tick.

"Afraid you'll lose, Sasquatch?" She sneers.

"..._what_?" Erik grits out.

"You heard me perfectly fine, _Sasquatch_." Kaeha tartly replies.

For a brief moment, she questions the abrupt loss of her sanity. Erik isn't her friend and 'ally' would be stretching it. Basically, there is no reason for the mental bender to listen to reason and not throttle her senseless. Years of training kick in as her slender frame shifts into the best form to cushion brutal impact. Tanned fingers curl around metal loops as a wedge should they snap around her wrists to crush capillaries.

"Let's play then." He states with a feral grin slashed across pale lips.

"Wait, _wha_-" Kaeha sputters, words disappearing when Erik bolts away.

The energy mutant openly gapes as Tall, Fierce and Scary replaces Janos as the opposing team's forward. Janos flashes a rakish smirk, bows in deference then bounds over to the sidelines by Emma. Alex is the first to recover and barks out orders to rally his team back into gear while Hank does the same for her own team. By the team the medic tenderly grips her wrist, Kaeha is composed and _vibrating_ with energy.

"Let's tear them apart." She growls.

Hank's laughter trails behind her as she hurtles headfirst back into the match. Once the minutes tick by and the game dwindles down to a nerve wrecking tie between both teams, everyone has brushed aside the nervous strain of Erik's presence. They've actually welcomed him into the fold once the metal bender pulls his weight and then some.

This time when Azazel blows the whistle, there's loud triumphant laughter peppered with faux annoyed groans. Alex managed to score the last goal with Erik's help and now the team is jumping about in glee. When the blond saunters over with a wide smirk, Kaeha can't hold back her own smile and gives the boy a quick congratulatory hug. She couldn't bear to feel upset over her loss with Alex practically glowing in pride and joy.

"Captain!" His team mate hollers, beckoning him over for a group hug.

Kaeha watches him go and outright grins when the shy students from his team end up lost in the large embrace. She turns to jog over to a beaming Charles only to freeze in mid-step. Her gaze has caught and snagged on Tall, Fierce and Scary. Erik stands tall above the shorter crowd, one arm loosely slung around Alex's shoulders with a quiet smile tugging on the corners of pale lips. A _smile;_ the second one she's seen even after a week here.

The next step she takes, Kaeha stumbles and _finally_ trips to the ground. Hank is instantly by her side and fusses over her like the mother hen he truly is. She says nothing in protest to the medic's ramblings and nagging. How could she when she's still struggling to recover from that sudden burst of warmth that jolted through her veins from seeing Erik smile? For a second, the energy mutant convinces herself she misinterpreted. _Obviously_.

Then Charles smiles smugly and Kaeha swears like a sailor until Hank flushes red in confusion.

* * *

_**Author's Ramblings:**_

_**I'm so so so sorry that I just went AWAL for almost an entire year. Honestly, being an international university student is much harder than I expected and I've been too preoccupied with getting good grades to write anything. The real half-adult life is real and very annoying. ;w;**_

**_Updates will be extremely rare and goodness I don't even know when the next post will be out. I have been considering the thought of finally putting this to rest even with the list of ideas I've had for years now about Everything In Between. This remains to be seen. Thank you dear readers for sticking by me. All of you mean the world to me and I apologize for being such a flaky writer. *bows*_**


End file.
